by Anne Marsh
Her stomach churned. She’d wanted to feel strong and capable of defending herself, but now she just felt stupid. What a shame she had two months left on her lease—moving suddenly seemed like a splendid idea. “Of course we can go inside.”
She gestured for him to proceed, keeping a safe distance between them instead of turning her back on him to unlock the door. The fact that he had a key supported his story that he was a tenant. She planned to see whether he went for the stairwell or the elevator before making her own decision. On the one hand, now that she was crashing from a temporary adrenaline surge, her legs felt too shaky for the stairs. But she didn’t want to confine herself in an enclosed elevator with him.
Nor did she want to run into him again after this fiasco of a first impression. What were the odds she could permanently avoid someone who lived directly across from her?
She swallowed. “So...you moved in today?”
“Enough of my stuff that I can sleep here,” he said. “I’m bribing some police buddies with pizza and beer to help with the rest this weekend.”
“Police? I almost maced a cop?”
“Forensic artist, technically. Don’t feel bad about the pepper spray—no harm done. Besides, it was refreshing.” His lips quirked in a slow grin that, under different circumstances, would raise a woman’s temperature and lower her inhibitions. “My last building had a tenant board that welcomed new occupants with a muffin basket. Total cliché. The attempted assault with intent to blind was a nice change of pace.”
His kindness only heightened her mortification. The old Riley would have met his playful teasing with some of her own. But at the moment, she couldn’t summon a sense of humor about assault. “I have to go.” Abandoning her plan to wait and see which direction he went, she bolted for the staircase.
Her feet had already cleared the first step when he called after her, “I didn’t catch your name?”
She didn’t slow down to offer it. Why bother telling others who she was when, lately, she didn’t even know the answer to that herself?
* * *
LEANING AGAINST THE wall just inside his front door, Jack Reed used the tail of his T-shirt to twist the cap off his beer. Tony Lang, head of the auto-theft task force and the only one remaining of three men who’d helped Jack today, drank his beer on the sofa. The couch was probably more comfortable than the wall, but after hours of hauling furniture up stairs, Jack lacked the energy to navigate his way through the jumble of boxes. In the weeks leading up to Halloween, regional corn mazes were a popular form of recreation; maybe instead of unpacking, he should just charge admittance to the cardboard labyrinth.
Tony surveyed the progress they’d made with a grunt. “Remind me again why you didn’t ask Spence Evans to help us? That guy looks like he can bench press cars. He would have saved us some trips.”
“I barely know Spence.” Jack was friends with half the police department, but as a rule he avoided the K-9 unit. “Besides, I figured with you, me, Gardoza and Burke, we had it covered.”
“Warning for the future, this is the last time I help you move during monsoon season.”
“Technically, I don’t think Atlanta has a monsoon season.” It had been raining all week, though, and Jack was sick of it. Outside thunder rumbled, warning that this afternoon’s drizzle was building to a real storm. “But I don’t plan on relocating again anytime soon.” Moving had been a big enough pain that he almost wished he’d renewed his lease at the former apartment complex. He’d wanted a change of pace, though, not to mention the extra distance between himself and his increasingly erratic ex.
“Does it seem awfully convenient to you that Gardoza had barely shown up when his wife called with supposed labor pains?” Tony grumbled. “At least Burke made it a few hours before bailing.”
“You can have their share of the beer. Come back tomorrow to help me unpack, I’ll even spring for your favorite Scotch.”
“No dice. You know Sunday dinner with my family is mandatory. I could get shot on duty and Ma would still expect me to show. Which reminds me...”
“Oh, hell. That’s your I-need-a-favor face.”
“Hey, you asked me to sacrifice a Saturday afternoon, and I’m hoping you’ll reciprocate.”
“Are you planning a move I don’t know about?”
“Nah. My sister’s kid turns twelve the first Saturday in November. It’s my niece’s first birthday since the divorce, and Anita is trying to put together a big party on a budget. So we made a list of our most talented friends we could coerce into working for free. Any chance you’ll come do caricatures of the guests? Funny sketches these middle school kids can hang in their lockers? They’ll love it.”
Jack, an only child raised by a single mother, always had difficulty wrapping his head around Tony’s large family gatherings. “A Saturday afternoon surrounded by middle school kids? You owe me a bottle of Scotch.”
“Then you’ll do it?”
How could he say no after Tony’s help today? Smothering a groan, he nodded.
Tony saluted him with his beer bottle. “Knew I could count on you. Just promise me one thing—try not to smile at my sister. Or make eye contact with her. Or stand too close to her. Anita’s still vulnerable after that snake ex-husband broke her heart, and you know how you are.”
“How I am?” What the hell was that supposed to mean?
“Women love you. It’s why every department wants you to talk to the female witnesses. Ladies access details they don’t even realize they saw just to impress you.”
“Oh, please.” Jack was uncomfortable with his friend’s assessment. “Women do not instantly and universally love me. Exhibit A... Celeste. You do remember the crazy woman who drove me out of my last home?” She’d lived on the first floor of his building. After the breakup, which had been far more dramatic than he’d expected, she’d taken to stalking him in the lobby, in the laundry room and in the resident gym.
“She loved you plenty. Which is why she went bonkers when you dumped her.”
And that, in a nutshell, was Jack’s problem with the mass delusion of “love.” People wielded the emotional excuse like a weapon, using love to justify bad behavior, desperate decisions and even heinous crimes.
“I’ll come to your niece’s party, but you should probably go before I change my—” Jack tilted his head, trying to better discern the sounds on the other side of the wall. Was the mysterious blonde in 4-C leaving the sanctuary of her apartment? As far as he could tell, she hadn’t poked her head outside since their encounter Wednesday night.
He’d been hoping to run into her again, to replace their first meeting with a less startling impression. As a sketch artist, Jack dealt with witnesses for a living. He’d seen his share of fearful, shell-shocked expressions—but not directed at him. It had disturbed him to know he was the cause of the raw emotions in her stricken gaze. He reasoned that she’d only been afraid because it had been dark and the rain had masked the sound of his footsteps, causing him to unintentionally sneak up on her. All he needed to rectify the situation was a brief, friendly exchange in the nonthreatening light of day.
“Hang on, Tony.” Jack cracked his door open and glanced down the hall.
His shapely new neighbor was shifting a box at her hip so that she had a free hand to press the elevator button. This was a perfect opportunity. Jack set down his beer and grabbed the nearest empty pizza box and a few other pieces of debris within easy reach. “Back in a sec!”
By the time he headed down the hallway, she was already in the elevator. The doors were starting to close, but Jack had long legs. He threw his arm between the sliding metal, and the doors obligingly rebounded.
He beamed at her. “Hello again.”
In return, she muttered a sharp expletive. Apparently, this particular female had missed the memo about how all women adored him. Her clear blue eyes narrowed for a moment, but then she ducked her gaze. Too bad. She had beautiful eyes. Beautiful everything. If anyone had asked his p
reference before now, he probably would have said he liked women with long hair. But his neighbor’s super-short style suited her. It gave her an edgy appearance while still highlighting delicate, feminine features.
And you’re staring. Not the best way to convince her he wasn’t some creepy parking-lot lurker.
“Sorry if my friends and I made a lot of noise with the furniture today,” he said as the elevator doors slid shut. “I’m mostly moved in, so it should be quiet from now on—although, I have been known to throw the occasional Halloween bash. As my neighbor, you would be invited, of course.”
She didn’t respond for a moment, and he wondered if she planned to ignore him for the entire descent. That would make for a paradoxically long four stories down.
But then she raised her head, glancing in his general direction while not quite meeting his eyes. “There’s actually a building-wide party, but I don’t—” The overhead lights flickered once, twice, before going out completely as the elevator dropped a few feet, then jerked to an abrupt halt.
Copyright © 2015 by Tanya Michna
ISBN-13: 9781460386132
Teasing Her SEAL
Copyright © 2015 by Anne Marsh
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